What Is War?
by Everyone's a Mortal
Summary: "She was okay, in the end, though. Remembering the happy stuff, remembering you couldn't always be ready to pounce and overly curious. It was hard, not asking questions. She'd been curious ever since she was five. Ever since they had told her not to ask." Future fic. Oneshot. Written in honor of the soldiers and families with people serving.


**SET IN THE FUTURE**

**A JacexClary fanfic. **

**I do not own.**

* * *

**_"The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him."  
— G.K. Chesterton_**

_What Is War?_

_ by Everyone's a Mortal._

**_"War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend."  
— J.R.R. Tolkien (The Two Towers (The Lord of the Rings, #2))_**

* * *

They had told her not to ask.

But Mama was crying.

Her mommy didn't cry often, but when she did, Ansel always knew, because she could hear the _sniff sniff sniff,_ and Daddy awkwardly trying to comfort his wife.

Since Ansel had been sitting by the door of her mom and dad's bedroom, she had heard the reason Mommy had started crying.

Papa had said _the word._

He had said _war. _Or, more specifically, he had said _I've been called. I'm going to the war, Clary._

Now, Ansel, being only five years old, had no idea what _war _was. But since Auntie Isabelle was over with Uncles Simon and Magnus and Alec, Ansel skipped into the kitchen as happily as possible, plopped herself onto her daddy's chair at the head of the table (it made her feel grown-up), and waited till she got her aunt and uncle's attention.

They were talking about _war, _too. It was a topic Auntie Izzy had told her not to ask about, but five year old girls will ask and ask and ask, until they get an answer, sometimes.

"He needs to go," Tio Simon was saying. Simon said that since she already had three uncles, he wanted to be different, and that Ansel could call him _Tio._

"That's Spanish for uncle," he had explained when he had told her that.

"I know." Ansel lied. She hated not knowing things, much less admitting she didn't know things.

Auntie Izzy looked tired, "But leaving Clary and cute little Ansel so soon..." She trailed off, noticing Ansel for the first time. "Oh, Ansel, hello. Didn't see you there." She took Ansel in her lap and stroked the girl's reddish blonde hair.

Ansel took a deep breathe, preparing to ask the question.

"It's what's best. This is the third time in history that dem-" Uncle Magnus glanced at Ansel, and bit his tongue (Clary had said to them that _she_ wanted to explain to Ansel about the magick world, and everyone respected that). "The _delicious lollipops_ have decided to manipulate and take part in war. More importantly, the _bad_ side of the war. We're already entering World War III. We need people like Jace."

Uncle Alec nodded, always as serious as ever. But when he looked at Ansel, his gaze softened just a teeny tiny bit. "It's true. We need to kill as many of those motherf-"

"Language, Alec!" Auntie Izzy whispered. She covered Ansel's ears.

Ansel looked up, curious. She scrunched her nose, and interrupted the grown-ups (who could sometime forget she existed) before they continued their conversation. "What's war?" She asked.

Silence.

Ansel hadn't yet come to know the exact meaning of silence after a dramatic question, so she just stared pointedly at everyone, silently saying, _well? Come on. I'm five-years-old. I don't got all day._

Finally, Tio Simon stirred. In a quiet voice, he said, "Well, Ansel, sweety, war is when people fight for a long, long time over silly things."

"They aren't always silly." Uncle Alec muttered.

"Yes, they are." Uncle Magnus said.

"No."

"Yes."

Auntie Izzy interrupted, "honey, no one can exactly explain war, and I think you're still a little too young to know." She said. She pulled Ansel closer to her. "Okay?"

Ansel held her breathe, trying to stop herself from slapping her forehead. She was five. She was definitely old enough to know what war was. But still, she said, "okay."

"And, one more thing." Auntie said.

"Yes, ma'am?" Ansel said, using the new word her daddy had taught her ("You say 'ma'am' to a lady, and 'sir' to a man, and that shows respect, okay, Ansel?"  
"Yes, sir," Ansel had replied).

Aunt Isabelle smiled slightly. "Don't ask your mommy or daddy what war is, okay? Don't ask for a long, long time."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Promise?"

Ansel hesitated. But then she said, "Okay. Promise."

Auntie Isabelle smiled.

Behind her back, Ansel had her fingers crossed.

* * *

Mommy, Auntie, Grandma, and Grandmother had all gone out. Mommy had been whisked away by Aunt Isabelle, Grandma Jocelyn, and Grandmother Maryise. They said she needed "Some time with the girls, a mocha frappuccino, and a venting session".

So they had left Ansel with daddy.

In Ansel's opinion, that was very rude. She loved her daddy, but they had left Ansel behind like she wasn't old enough to go out. She was almost six (in two and a half months), and she thought that was plenty old enough. Asnel even knew how to brush her own hair and put pretty clips in it.

When Mommy left, Ansel decided to go play dress up. She had just slipped into a poofy green dress -it went with her eyes nicely, which were green with gold flecks- when her papa walked in.

Ansel loved her papa a lot. He was tall and thin and strong. When he carried Ansel, she felt like she was the biggest person in the world, and so very safe. She would never admit it, but Ansel sometimes didn't want to grow up, just so she could always fit perfectly in his arms.

"Ansy?" Her papa asked. "Want some hot chocolate?"

The wind blew outside, and Ansel thought that, since she was in a poofy green princess dress, and had in her hair her best clips, and had even put on a tiara like a real princess, that she deserved some hot chocolate. "Yes, please."

"That's good manners, Ansel."

"Thank you, Papa."

He smiled at her, a real smile, that reached his eyes, and Ansel felt more like a princess. She followed him into the kitchen. When he was done making their hot chocolate, they sat down on Ansel's favorite chair -a big red one where her whole family fit that could spin around and around and around- and sipped happily.

The TV played _A.N.T Farm _softly. Ansel thought about the talk she had overhead her parents discussing.

_"A TV? It'll rot her brain, Clary."_

_"She should have some normality while she still can!"_

_"Yes, but... a TV?"_

_"Jace..."_

_Her daddy had paused. "I'm going to lose this argument, aren't I?"_

_"Yes, you are."_

_"... fine."_

Ansel's mind began to wander. She took another sip of her hot chocolate. She thought about war.

Auntie Isabelle had warned her not to ask.

But sometimes, five-year-old girls with blonde-red hair and green eyes with flecks of gold just can't help themselves.

"Daddy?" Ansel asked. "What's _war?"_

Her papa almost choked on his hot chocolate. He didn't usually show that much emotion (and Ansel had inherited that trait from him, much to her mama's dismay), but there it was, plain as day, the shock on his face. "War..." He finally said, and put his arm around Ansel. "War is an argument, only bigger and grander and badder."

"Oh. What bad things happen in war?"

Her daddy looked at her, "what do they teach you in school?"

"Worthless things that you taught me when I was three."

Her daddy grinned, "I told your mother we should have home schooled you."

"I told her, too." Ansel said, and she had (but only because she really wanted to watch TV while doing school).

"Many bad things," her father said, after some silence. He took another sip of hot chocolate, and Ansel did the same. "People sometimes get hurt, and they don't come home, Ansel."

Ansel nodded in understanding. "So you're going to go to war, right, Papa?"

"Yes, sweet heart." Said her papa.

"But you'll come back, right?"

Her papa hesitated. Finally, he said, "Yes."

"Promise?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Ansel nodded, and snuggled against her father.

She didn't see that his fingers were crossed.

* * *

_~five years later~_

"Daddy." Ansel said.

Her father was looking at her strangely. He was wearing his army clothes, complete with the symbol of their alliance, a compass. His hand was in his hair (which was all gone; a buzz cut, to Ansel and her mother's dismay).

"On the North Star," her father said, staring at the three people standing before them. Mommy was standing behind Ansel, who carried Nehemiah, the newest member of the family. He was only two years old. His pudgy toddler fat was so adorable, Ansel couldn't help wanting to hold her new baby brother with the blonde hair and green eyes. "You're so big, Ansel!" He gasped. Her papa looked at Nehemiah, "And you're growing up fast, too! I've got to teach you so much, like how to be good to ladies and how to shoot a rifle and get away with stealing and-"

Ansel's mama made a sharp sound from her throat. Ansel smiled, because when she looked up, she could see the happiness in her mom's eyes, even though she was trying to shoo away a sprite that was a little too close to Nehemiah's face.

But Ansel's daddy didn't notice the sprite. "Clary." He said, and then faster,"Clary Clary Clary Clary _Clary."_ He picked her up and twirled her, and people stared. Some people muttered things like _what a scandal, _but Ansel ignored them.

Then her daddy kissed her mommy and that's when Ansel shut her eyes and covered Nehemiah's, too.

After that, they went to eat with Uncle Magnus and Uncle Alec, but Auntie Isabelle and Tio Simon were on their honeymoon so daddy had missed them.

"Jace," Uncle Alec said, "how's it going over there?"

"Fairly well," Ansel's daddy said. Mommy fed Nehemiah. "Why?"

Uncle Alec looked at his food, and uncle Magnus stood up and went to the bathroom.

Even though Ansel was only ten, she understood.

* * *

After daddy and uncle Alec, uncle Simon went next. He left Aunt Isabelle and their six-year-old child, Rose, and went to the army, too.

One day, Ansel asked uncle Magnus why he didn't go.

"The affairs of men are so petty. Why bother?" He had said.

Ansel, who was now eleven and understood magick fairly well, said, _"Warlocks."_

Uncle Magnus simply smiled and said, "No, my dear. _Warlock. _Or, more specifically, g-"

"MAGNUS!" Ansel's mother shouted. She stuck her bright red head of hair into the living room, "I need some help with this chili. I can't quite get the texture right."

Uncle stood, apparently glad to be of some use. "Ansel, I expect you to take care of Nehemiah and Rose while I'm in the kitchen." He said.

"Yes, uncle," Ansel said. When he and Ansel's mother were gone, and Ansel could hear uncle coaching mommy, and Auntie's snores down the hall (she was napping), Ansel sat down next to her now three-year-old brother, and her cousin Rose (they were both watching Sesame Street), and took out a locket she had on.

When she opened, her whole family -uncles, aunts, cousins, mom, dad, brother, grandma, grandpa- stared back at her.

Their faces were happy, a real family. The last time, before Uncle Alec and Tio Simon and daddy left.

Ansel cried.

* * *

~_six years later~__  
_

"I missed so much." He said to her. He touched her face, his strong, strong arms feeling so tender in a way they could only if someone loved you very much.

Ansel smiled, trying hard not to cry.

Seven years he had been gone, all because of the war. The war that was still going on, even now, that the US was just now starting to feel and for a minute, Ansel and her aging mother and Nehemiah -who was now ten years old- were all gathered around the soldier. He didn't look much older; just battle scarred. Still hadn't lost anything, though.

When Ansel's father hugged her, he whispered, "Kill any demons, lately?"

"You bet, Dad." She responded.

Her dad's body tensed, and he pulled away. He stood next to Ansel's mom, and slowly said, _"Dad?"_

Ansel stared at him, confused.

But her mother understood. "Honey, you haven't seen her in years. And besides, imagine my reaction when she called me mom. She was thirteen and-"

"You're seventeen." Ansel's father said, like this was the first time he'd realized it.

Ansel nodded, and Nehemiah called out, "And I'm ten!"

Dad glanced down at Nehemiah, and smiled, "That you are, Iah, and I still have to teach you how to be a proper ladies man and how to shoot a rifle and use a sword and dagger correctly. What say we do that tomorrow morning?"

Nehemiah nodded, happy and satisfied. He plopped down onto a seat and started playing the newest phone game; _World War IV; The Zombie War._

"But you'll be eighteen next year." Ansel's father said, staring at Ansel strangely.

She did a mental check on what she was wearing; a red skirt with a black top; nothing wrong with that, right?

"And you're wearing makeup." Ansel's father continued. "What will you do when you turn eighteen?"

Ansel and Mom exchanged glances.

Before they could respond, voices called out; "Clary, Ansel, Nehemiah!" And two voiced continued, "JACE!"

Uncle Magnus, Auntie Izzy, Rose, Uncle Alec, and Tio Simon ran up. Ansel's father, Tio Simon, and Uncle Alec were all dressed in their unifor. Uncle Magnus wore the usual sparkly attire.

Ansel hugged all three of her uncles, gave Rose a kiss, and hugged Aunt Izzy.

Ansel's father smiled at everyone (a rare sight; usually the real smiles were reserved only for Ansel, Mom, and Nehemiah), but suddenly he looked strangely at someone standing next to Ansel.

It was a boy.

"Who is this?" Ansel's father asked.

Everyone grimaced.

Ansel said, "Oh, this is my... my..."

"Boyfriend." The boy said. He extended his hand towards Ansel's father.

Ansel's father stared at it, as if it disgusted him.

"I am a Major General of the US Army," said Ansel's father, _"In uniform._ Visiting my _family."_

Ansel's boyfriend quickly turned the handshake into a salute.

Ansel laughed.

Her father didn't.

* * *

"I don't like him, Ansel." Her father said.

"Why not?" Ansel asked.

"Because he's cheating on you." Said her father, as gently as possible. "And he has a horrible name. Names with 'Sebastian' only lead to trouble."

Ansel's reaction was expected; she flinched and inched away from her dad. "What?" She asked, "Dad, just 'cause you don't like my boyfriend doesn't mean you can try to get rid of him by saying he's cheating on me! And that was only one Sebastian!"

"But he is!"

"Is not."

"Is, too."

"There's only one way to find out."

"Yes."

They stared at each other. Ansel said, "Asking him."

Her father said, "Magnus."

They let out a loose, nervous chuckle.

Then they exploded into the kitchen, "Magnus, find out if Sebastian is cheating on Ansel," Ansel's father said.

Uncle Magnus immediately closed his eyes and began to focus.

Sebastian, who was also a Shadowhunter, gaped. Ansel asked, "Are you cheating on me?"

"What?" Sebastian said, "Um, no!"

Uncle Magnus suddenly opened his eyes, "Liar liar, pants on fire."

Sebastian stared blankly.

"Seriously." Uncle Magnus pointed, "you're pants are _literally on fire."_

Sebastian looked down and scrambled for the bathroom. But Uncle Alec blocked the door. Behind Sebastian, Tio Simon bared his fangs.

The mothers covered Nehemiah and Rose's eyes.

"We'll let you go when you come clean," Ansel's father said.

It didn't take long.

Once they let him go, Ansel collapsed into her uncle's arms. "Why?" She asked out loud.

Uncle Magnus, the only man in the room who apparently knew how to deal with teenagers, said, "Well, Ansel, sometimes boys do strange things because they are idiots who can't deal with the beauty of a single lady like yourself and run off and ruin the best thing in life for them."

"We love you," Ansel's father tried.

"I know that, you idiot," Ansel laughed. She choked back tears, "But I want a hot boy my age to love me, too."

They hugged her and gave her her favorite goods; turkey (like on Thanksgiving. Ansel didn't ask where her parents go it), with salad, and an ice cream sundae with hot chocolate for dessert.

* * *

_~one year later~_

"Ma'am, are you sure about this? It's tough out there." The recruiting man said.

Ansel didn't waver, "Yes, sir. I am."

The man nodded, slowly, "Okay. What's the name?"

"Ansel Maryise-Jocelyn Lightwood."

The man looked up, startled. "Did you say..."

"Lightwood, yes."

"As in...?"

Ansel rolled her eyes, "Yes. Colonel Jace Lightwood is my father."

"Well, you must be itching to fight, then," the man said. He was smiling, that worried demeanour gone. "Are you a good warrior?"

"Bested only twice, by my mother and father, sir."

"I'll get you in," said the man. "Don't know which platoon I'll put you in, but I'll get you in."

* * *

"Master Sergeant Lightwood!"

She stood up, not waiting to see who it was. Wiping her face of all emotion, she turned around, hand up in a salute. "Sir, yes, sir?" She asked in a loud voice.

Her father's eyes stared back at her.

"My office, please."

They walked in silence, everyone steering clear of the duo that was Colonel Lightwood and Master Sergeant Lightwood.

When they got to his office, he said to her, "The army?"

"Yes, sir."

"Don't you 'yes sir' me," her father snapped, "There is a _war _going down, Ansy. A war. People die."

"Yeah," Ansel said, "But I"m a Lightwood. And we always live."

Her father closed his eyes, and Ansel immediately felt sorry. "Dad, I'm sorry. But I have to do this. It's important to me. As many soldiers as we can get, the better, right?"

Her father nodded, but didn't say anything. Ansel kissed his cheek, and then headed for the door. Before she left, her dad's voice caught her.

_"What is war?" _He asked.

And all she could remember was hot chocolate and _A.N.T. Farm._

* * *

She won all her small battles with either demon or man; sometimes both. It was horrible and deadly and bloody, but she fought. Her rank grew and grew and so did her father's until, one day, he was a General (that was _four stars; FOUR_), and she was a Second Lieutenant.

That's when everything went down hill.

General Lightwood was famous. He had gone up the ladder faster than anyone, and Ansel was getting noticed, as well. They were decorated warriors, the best fighters, so good that they walked out of battle with barely even a scratch.

But the war wasn't over, no. Almost, but not quite. Their side -the 'No Demons Allowed' side- of the war was winning big time. But the losing side still fought on, bravely.

Ansel, Tio Simon, Uncle Alec, and her father took a break to visit the mothers, and Rose, and Nehemiah (who was mad at being the youngest; he wanted to fight, too), and Uncle Magnus.

It was then that Uncle Magnus pulled Ansel's father away.

They were in Uncle's office for a long time. They skipped dinner, and Ansel started to wonder what was going on. Her mother joked they watching a rated R movie, but no one laughed. Finally, Aunt Isabelle went to check on them.

She came back with them. Dryly, uncle Magnus said, "Sorry. We were having a heated discussion on bras."

"Yes," Ansel's father agreed, "The lacy or the push up?"

"Both," Tio Simon said, wiggling his eyebrows. His wife slapped his arm, hard. "Um, ow."

"Tio," Ansel said, "What's up with the strategy?"

Her Tio was one of the top strategist, meaning he didn't exactly fight, but planned the attack methods. He and Uncle Alec were partners, and good at what they did.

Ansel's father nodded, "Yeah, it's really good, I mean, it drives the demons mad, but it's a bit crazy."

Tio Simon didn't hesitate, "We were drunk when we invented it; and besides, Jace, we _are _crazy."

No one denied it; it was true.

And they ate like a family since the first time Grandmother Maryise and Grandfather Robert died.

* * *

_~ten months later~_

She never knew how many there were.

She wasn't ever allowed to see them while in action; no soldier was (for fear they would break down).

There were hundreds and thousands and more than thousands.

All soldiers buried here.

The war was done, Ansel thought, hoping for some relief. It had ended five months ago, but they had been cleaning up the rest of the trying-to-fight-but-losing soldiers of the other side.

Now that was done, and Ansel was a Major and she had resigned and it was okay.

Except it wasn't.

Because the war had ended with one giant loss that the whole country felt sorry for, but one family in particular.

_The mist made for the perfect attack. The boats drifted silently, and Ansel stood next to her father, waiting._

_The strategy was a familiar one and absolutely brilliant, because no one would be expecting it._

_The Battle of the Bulge, Tio Simon had said to them. Uncle Alec had nodded, and slowly, Ansel and her father understood._

_"You must learn from history," Her father had said, "Or else, why is it there at all?"  
_

_So here they were, Ansel and her father, her father helping to lead the surprise attack on the losing armies. There he was, because the thrill of fighting was just too great to stay away from._

_"We could die," Ansel said. At the time, she hadn't exactly realized how true the fact was._

_"Yep." Said her father. "But everyone does that."_

_"Do you want to die?"_

_"It would be an awfully big adventure," was all he had said._

_The ships landed, quietly, and everyone snuck off to their places. Ansel hugged her father, and he kissed her and wished her good luck and she did the same, even thought they both thought luck was a sham._

_"Love you," she said._

_"I know." He responded._

_So she walked off the ships, fully prepared to die for her country, for the cause._

_She didn't realize her father was also prepared._

Ansel kneeled before the smooth stone. Her mother and Nehemiah hadn't felt like coming, and Uncle Alec and Tio Simon had already visited.

It was just her.

She layed down beside the stone.

_The battle got bloody, fast. They were fighting their way into the gigantic building where the rulers of the losing side -the Chinese and Russians- were laughing and talking about how they were _so _winning._

_Ansel's body tensed, and then, she was in and without hesitation she shot the Chinese bodyguards and killed the Chinese leader and she felt horrible about it, because surely not all Chinese people were bad, but this one was, and she didn't want him to be bad, but he was._

_And then it happened._

_When she turned and layed __eyes on the Russian, she hesitated._

_That was enough. They shot her in the leg, and it was her first time being shot and so you can imagine it hurt._

_A lot._

_But she still managed to get back up, still managed to shoot each bodyguard, one at a time, and held the gun at the Russian man's head._

_She stared at him.  
_

_"Wonder how you'll die," she said, and then she began to lead him out, began to imagine his trial, when he hit her and she shot him in the arm but he still stumbled away._

_"Not today, you scumbag," said a voice, and then the Russian man was on the ship in handcuffs, and it was all good, but Ansel was losing blood._

_"Ansel," said her father. "Ansel, stay with me."_

_"Do I have to?"_

_"Yes." After a thought, he added, "That's an order."_

_"... yes, sir."_

_Her father laughed._

_A shadow fell over him. And then the outline of a gun, but Ansel was too weak to say a thing._

_The shot hit him in the lungs. It wasn't that close, but it was close enough. She rolled over. "Dad?" Ansel whispered._

_His last words were memorable, "War is fighting for a cause so important that you're willing to die for it." He said, "you should always be willing to go to war for the right causes. Love you, all my Lightwoods and Lewis's."_

_And he was gone._

_They dragged Ansel away and saved her, just barely._

_But her father was gone._

So the war was over, Ansel thought, as she stared up at the sky.

The Russian had been publicly killed.

Her father had been publicly remembered and Ansel and Magnus and Alec had been publicly thanked, along with every other soldier there ever was.

The war was over and so was her father's life.

Ansel stood and kneeled before the gravestone.

**Jonathon Christopher 'Jace' Lightwood.  
1988-2043.  
Loving Husband of Clarissa Adele Lightwood.  
Loving Brother to Isabelle and Alec Lightwood.  
Loving Friend to Magnus Bane and Simon Lewis.  
Loving Son of Maryise and Robert Lightwood.  
Loving Uncle of Rose Lewis.  
Loving Father of Ansel and Nehemiah Lightwood.**

Ansel read everything on the gravestone. She carefully put her dad's favorite dagger by the stone, where it wouldn't be found.

Ansel stood, flexing her leg, leaning on her cane, and stared at her father's grave one last time.

She loved him. Hadn't always said it, but it was true.

She still loved. But that was just the thing about a father-daughter relationship; when you had it, you couldn't stop loving, even after one was gone.

Ansel turned around, her red hair bouncing in it's ponytail.

Her memory spiked.

"Hey, Dad?" She asked, "What is war?"

Then she left, feeling herself fade away, always alert.

But she survived.

Daggers always drawn.

Always ready.

She was okay, in the end, though. Remembering the happy stuff, remembering you couldn't always be ready to pounce and overly curious. It was hard, not asking questions.

She'd been curious ever since she was five.

Ever since they had told her not to ask.

* * *

**_"Demons run when a good man goes to war  
Night will fall and drown the sun  
When a good man goes to war_**

_**Friendship dies and true love lies**_  
_**Night will fall and the dark will rise**_  
_**When a good man goes to war**_

_**Demons run, but count the cost**_  
_**The battle's won, but the child is lost"**_  
_**— Steven Moffat.**_

**_"War; a state of armed conflict between different nations or states or different groups within a nation or state."  
-Google._**

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed that.**

**Please leave a review if you did! That would be nice.**

**Thanks.**

**Bye.**


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